


My Watchword is “Tranquil”

by TimeSorceror



Category: Dragon Age (Video Games), Dragon Age - All Media Types, Dragon Age: Inquisition
Genre: Anal Fingering, Anal Sex, Angst with a Happy Ending, Blow Jobs, Grey Warden Stamina, Implied/Referenced Self-Harm, Light Dom/sub, M/M, Porn With Plot, Porn with Feelings, Safewords, Size Kink
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-12-15
Updated: 2016-12-15
Packaged: 2018-09-08 17:25:18
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 9,823
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8854222
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TimeSorceror/pseuds/TimeSorceror
Summary: When Bull notices the spirit Cole dragging in a cloaked, glowing figure from out of the rain at Skyhold, he goes to investigate, only to find Cole tending to a drenched scarecrow of a man in a blanket. Later, Cole brings the same man into the tavern and promptly asks Bull for help giving the man a reason to keep living.





	

**Author's Note:**

  * For [emotionalmorphine](https://archiveofourown.org/users/emotionalmorphine/gifts).



> For emotionalmorphine‘s crack ship prompt. 
> 
> Hmm. Well, if you’re looking for straight up smut, it didn’t really work out that way. (The characters wouldn’t behave and were demanding there be at least a semblance of plot.)
> 
> Okay, scratch that, there’s a lot of plot. No, there’s a bloody entire fic here. What. Have you done? XD I think you’ve just made me properly ship this now, damnit. *adds another Anders ship to the list* And it’s a rare pair too. (Oh, how rare, exactly? Well, this will mark the... *drumroll* second entire fic with this pairing in it, but the first to have it as the featured pairing. Well done, my friend. :P)

The first time Iron Bull saw Anders was when he watched as the thing that called itself Cole dragged a cloaked figure into one of the medical tents. 

Normally, he wouldn’t’ve batted an eye at the scene - Cole was always doing weird things. But even across the courtyard and through several sheets of heavy rain, Bull could see that the figure under the cloak was glowing softly, with spidery webs of blue light spilling slowly over their skin.

He decided that he should probably make sure that Cole wasn’t bringing demons into Skyhold. Just in case.

But when he made it to the tent and pulled back the flap just a touch enough to glimpse whatever Cole had dragged in... he a found a man huddled in a thick woolen blanket, sitting very still as Cole helped shave the scruffy beard from his face and comb his hair. Speaking of his hair, once clean and dry, it looked something close to spun rose gold in the torchlight. 

By all accounts, it appeared that all Cole had dragged in was a scrawny scarecrow of a man in need of a shave and a dry place to keep warm. Bull frowned as he let the tent flap fall and he returned to the tavern to drink and think on what he’d seen.

* * *

 

The second time he saw Anders was about an hour or so later, when Cole showed up next to his seat and hovered quietly. Bull simply waited for Cole to speak, because the kid usually did after a while.

“The Iron Bull? May I... may I ask a favor of you?”

Bull couldn’t help but smile a little. Even though Cole was creepy as shit, he never failed to remember to call him _The_ Iron Bull. 

“Tell me what it is first, then maybe I’ll consider it.”

Cole frowned, shuffling his feet a little. He glanced across the tavern, and Bull followed his gaze to where the golden haired man sat. He had proper clothes now, a soft, warm cloak, a decent meal which he was rapidly consuming, and... a staff. A mage, then. 

Cole sighed and began speaking in that strange, wistful way of his.

“So dark, so wet. Cold. The burning fire of Justice in my heart that once kept me warm has banked his coals, though he’s not gone out quite yet. I know he hasn’t. But... guilt, guilt, there’s so much guilt. Which is his and which is mine? Guilt at the pain, the blood spilt in my name. We never wanted this.”

The kid inclined his head back in Bull’s direction.

“I want to help him, but I can’t. I can’t just make him forget, make them forget.”

Bull frowned at the word “them”.

“What do you mean by... _them_?”

Cole turned to look at the man again.

“ _I took a spirit into my soul and changed myself forever_... thought I was helping a friend, saving his life, but I ended up hurting us both. Now I am the monster the Chantry calls “abomination”...  _Even the greatest scholars cannot tell you where Justice ends and I begin_.” 

Cole paused, and then continued with, “Does... does that answer your question?”

 _Abomination_.

Iron Bull took a good long look at the man by the fire. Frowned some more.

“Aren’t abominations... you know. A bit more gnarly lookin’? This one’s still kinda pretty.” A lot pretty, actually. Cleaned up, the man was beautiful. Almost breathtaking, if you didn’t look at how thin he was or the dark circles under his honey brown eyes.

“Maybe it’s because he’s a spirit, like me. Maybe it’s not. Does it matter? He’s... lost. They’re both lost. They need... purpose. You’re good at purpose. You can help them where I can’t. Will you help them?”

Beneath the wide brimmed hat Cole liked to wear, his eyes were big and lips drawn into a pout. 

Bull groaned. This kid knew where to hit him, that was for sure.

“If some crazy fade shit ends up going down and killing someone, I’m telling the Inquisitor,” he grumbled, getting up from his seat. He stalked past Krem who gave him a cursory look before shrugging and went back to polishing his armor. Eventually he came up to the table where the man sat, stock still and looking about ready to bolt at a moment’s notice.

“You look like you’ve had a rough night,” said Bull, pulling out the other chair and sitting down. “You need a drink?”

The man stared at him for a moment before nodding, a slight tremble of his head and his eyes ducked down and he curled in on himself. “I, ah...” The blond coughed, his voice rough from what Bull recognized as a long period of disuse. He coughed once, twice; cleared his throat. Then he looked up and spoke again, this time with a little more confidence.

“Yes, please. Thank you... well, as long as you’re buying.” The blond offered him a sad little smile... and didn’t that just do strange things to his insides? 

Bull simply flagged down one of the tavern wenches and offered her enough coin for two mugs of “the usual.” Some maaras lok ought to put some fire into those sad eyes if nothing else did. And speaking of the owner of those eyes...

“So, you got a name?” he asked, and that earned him an amused chuckle that seemed to spark of bit of life in the mage’s amber eyes. “Most people do,” replied the blond, and he flashed Bull a tiny little grin that lifted his lips a little to reveal a tantalizing bit of tongue and teeth. It really changed the look of his face, that little grin. This was a man who was made for smiles, though there weren’t nearly enough laugh lines at the corners of the man’s eyes.

“Mine is a name that’s whispered to children these days as though I am a demon of the Fade come to snatch them from their beds,” the blond continued, his voice sounding equal parts bitter and anguished. “And... if that young man who brought me in keeps his promise, you’ll know who I am soon enough. So I’m afraid you’ll just have to make do with Blondie. It’s what V–” Blondie paused, closed his eyes in the way that some of the soldiers did when fighting off memories that haunted them, and opened them again. 

“It’s the name a former friend gave me once, when I was still the sort of man who deserved friends.”

Bull grunted in response. Maybe Cole was right about this one.

“Blondie. Got it. I’m The Iron Bull. I lead that band of misfits back there,” he jerked a horn in the direction of the Chargers who were huddled around a couple pushed-together tables and playing a few rounds of Diamondback. “And Krem.” Krem, who was apparently close enough to hear Bull mention his name, didn’t even bother looking up from his armor polishing and just shouted, “Yep, that’s my name, Chief. Don’t wear it out!”

That earned a chuckle from Blondie. 

“Quite the colorful group.” Blondie fixed him with a curious stare and raised an eyebrow in question. “So, why come talk to me? I’m something of a mess as is probably plain to see... not exactly mercenary material.”

Bull grunted noncommittally. 

“That, uh... young man who brought you in. He’s some bizarre sort of part-person, part-spirit. He just... sort of knows what people need. Said you needed some company. Even if he hadn’t though, you’re rather pretty underneath that doom and gloom thing you got goin’ on.” Bull flashed him a suggestive grin which, strangely enough, earned him an interesting shade of pink that spread up from beneath Blondie’s cloak collar and the sides of his face and finally joining together to fill his cheeks.

This one was the sort who had those... full-bodied blushes. Nice.

Idly, Bull wondered what the rest of the man would look like with that lovely shade of pink dusting his pale skin, but before he could think too much on it, Blondie started to stammer out a reply.

“O–O–Oh. Um. Well... thank you.” He blinked for a moment, frowning a little in thought. “Did you say that young man was... part Spirit? Do you–? No, you probably don’t...”

“Don’t what?” Bull prompted. “Try me.”

Blondie shrugged, reaching back to scratch at an itch on his neck.

“You wouldn’t happen to know what kind of Spirit? Or how he...”

“How he is the way he is? Nah, I don’t know much about that. Not a big fan of all that Fade nonsense.” Blondie nodded. “It is rather terrifying, even to those of us who walk through it in our dreams.” Bull just shrugged. 

“Solas said he was a spirit of Compassion or some such. That make any sense to you?” Blondie nodded again. “Yes, actually. It... makes a lot of sense. Thank you for the clarification.” Then he went quiet again, and the brooding aura that had momentarily lifted from the man’s shoulders was creeping back again.

“So, why come to Skyhold? You joining up with the Inquisition’s mages?”

The laugh that followed was a harsh bark of bitter incredulousness.

“No! I... I almost wish that were the case. But, no. I mentioned before that mine was a name that is one that inspires awe and terror, yes? It does so because I... I’ve killed people. A lot of people.” Bull snorted. “Yeah? So have I, and you don’t see me losin’ any sleep over it.”

Blondie shook his head. “I suppose, along with my name, you’ll learn of my crimes too. Whenever I’m brought before the Inquisitor to be judged. I fully expect to be... to be executed for my crimes. Or made Tranquil.” He shuddered, and little flecks of blue light flashed across his hands as he drew his cloak around him even further. His eyes glassed over for a brief moment, and for a second Bull knew that it wasn’t Blondie who was looking out at him from those eyes, which made him shudder in turn.

And then the moment passed, and their mugs were placed in front of them, filled to the brim with maaras lok. She also sat the jug of it next to them when Bull motioned for her to leave it, and he sent her off with a delighted squeal as he tapped her playfully when she turned to leave.

“Huh,” Bull grunted. “Well, Lavellan’s not big into making people Tranquil. ‘cept for that shitlord Erimond, but he was a real piece of work. She wouldn’t even make that Magister... what’s his name... ah, Alexius. She wouldn’t even make _him_ Tranquil, and _he_ sent her an’ Sparkler into some terrifying-ass future where everything apparently went to shit in a year. Now, I don’t know what you’ve done, but if she thinks you’ve got something worth keeping around, I promise you that you’ll stay that way, Blondie.”

Blondie just started at him, mouth slightly open in... awe? Wonder? 

“I... thank you for telling me that. So say, what’s this?” Blondie took a sniff of the maaras lok and wrinkled his nose a bit and giving it an accessing look. “Sort of reminds me of this ale that a dwarf Warden friend of mine used to make... rather smelly but very strong.” He ran a hand through his hair.

“Maker, but it’s been a long time since I’ve had a proper drink.”

Bull chuckled. “Well, I wouldn’t try to sip it. This stuff’s no sipping drink. Trust me. An’ there’s no drink in Thedas that’s a better drink for one’s potential last day alive as a free man.”

Blondie chuckled darkly. “I’m a mage. I’ve never really been a free man, honestly. But, I appreciate the sentiment.” 

He hesitated a moment before putting the mug to his lips, that same flash of light flickering across his hands as he appeared to debate with himself about something before, at last, tipping his head back and taking a good long swig of the stuff and slamming the mug back down shortly thereafter.

Bull grinned as he watched the man’s face twitch as thumped his chest twice to help it down.

“Wow! That’s... so much better than Oghren’s ale. Tastes better, too.”

He took another swig and did cough a little after this one, but by now the man was alight with laughter that again did wonders for his face. Bull joined him in his drinking, and was happy to entertain the blond for a little while, though he chose not to drink as much as usual in order to keep an eye on the man, who appeared to be growing slightly more uninhibited as the night went on. 

At one point Blondie put down his mug and leaned his head on his left hand, batting his eyelashes in Bull’s direction.

“You know... you’re quite unlike any Qunari I’ve ever met, though to be fair the only ones I’ve ever known were the ones back in Kirkwall before the incursion, an’ they weren’t very friendly. Oh, and this elf... Tallis. She was pretty, but not like, I think she’d be good for a tumble pretty. ‘Twas more like she was the sort of...” He hiccuped, and fixed Bull with a squinty drunk stare. “...you know. That sort of pretty that could potentially kill you. So I figured I’d better not.”

Bull simply took a small swig of his drink and continued to listen to the man babble. He was pretty sure he knew this Tallis that Blondie was talking about. He recalled that the girl had liked to cause all sorts of trouble in her youth.

“But you,” Blondie emphasized, reaching out with his other hand and (presumably) tracing the outline of a bicep in the air with his finger, “you’re different. You care about things. Like... non-Qunari things. And you’re a lot easier on the eyes. You... you could probably kill me too, like Tallis, but I think you’d be able to actually bliss me out while doing it. And believe me, that’s no small feat – to wear out a Warden in bed.” 

Wait. This one was... a Warden? In Kirkwall?

That... was ringing a few bells.

But before Bull could offer anything in reply, Commander Cullen entered the tavern, looking around the area rather intently. Eventually his eyes fell on Bull, and then to the man next to him. Quietly, he advanced, and Blondie looked up at his approach.

Even through his pleasantly drunk haze, Bull could see the moment when Blondie sobered up just a bit at the sight of the man. He knew Cullen, that much Bull could tell.

“Ah,” Blondie murmured, “here at last to clap me in irons and stuff me with magebane?” The last bit of the question was as light as the rest of it, though it was laced with a bit of the same bitterness from earlier. Cullen winced, ran a hand through his hair, and sighed deeply.

“That’s... that’s not what we do here. I was told you came to be judged willingly, so it’s in the Inquisition’s best interests to treat you with what few courtesies you’re allowed.” Blondie huffed. “Well, I’ve already had my last meal, and a few drinks... say, am I allowed a last request? Because I never got to kiss you back when you first started out at Kinloch. You always kept running off whenever Rashia even batted an eyelash in your direction... though, it wasn’t a bad view, mind, even with all that armor on.” Bull snorted. 

“Man, you missed a really good game of Wicked Grace, then. The Commander here tried to make a bet with our diplomat, Josephine, and lost every last bit of his clothes. Had to run back to his quarters, stark naked! I hear Aurelia quite enjoyed the show though, didn’t she?” 

At that, Cullen spluttered.

“H–Hey! T–That’s... ugh. I’m never going to be able to live that one down, am I? Look, just... come with me. You’re due to be judged tomorrow, and I’d rather not present you in front of the Inquisitor, half-drunk.” Blondie grumbled something unintelligible but stood, if a little wobbly on his feet. He let Cullen gently strong-arm his hands behind his back and the two were just about to leave when Bull called out Cullen’s name. 

“Here, catch!”

Cullen caught a vial of liquid that Bull tossed at him with his free hand, studying it curiously. 

“Might want to give him that before you put him to bed. Just saying.” Cullen nodded, and urged Blondie to move, and the two men shuffled out of the tavern and out into the night.

* * *

 

The third time that Bull saw Anders was the next day when he stood before Aurelia, in chains, having his crimes read out to the entirety of Skyhold’s court by Josephine, with Cullen hovering close by.

“Inquisitor,” she began, gesturing to the mage with one hand while the other had a death-grip on her clipboard. “We have before you Anders, former Enchanter of Kinloch Hold, Senior Warden of Vigil’s Keep at Amaranthine, and the infamous Healer of Kirkwall’s Darktown, a companion of Hawke, the Champion of Kirkwall.”

Bull, who’d been leaning against one of the far walls couldn’t help but raise an eyebrow in surprise. This man was... Anders? _That_ Anders? Ah. Now a good portion of what he’d said to Bull last night made a lot of sense, especially his reluctance to give out his name... or even a summary of his crimes.

Josephine cleared her throat after a moment of silence had settled over the gossiping nobles, and continued to address the Inquisitor.

“The formal charges are apostasy, desertion, bodily possession of an entity of the Fade, and... the destruction of the Kirkwall Chantry and the murder of the Grand Cleric Elthina, as well as the deaths of those who were casualties of the explosion and the resulting revolts that followed in its wake. He was brought in... by Cole, of all people.”

She sounded a little baffled, but still carried herself with all the grace and poise of her station.

“He has turned himself in... willingly, and will accept whatever judgement you see fit to render, Inquisitor.” She inclined her head, signaling to Aurelia that she now had the floor. Bull could see her brow knitting in the way it did when she was mulling over something of great importance, and that it was going to be a while before she could come to a conclusion. 

Blondie, or Anders rather, stood alone at the foot of the steps leading up to the throne where Aurelia was currently perched. For the woman was never quite comfortable lounging about in the thing, what with the way she leaned away from it as though it would burn her. But Anders... he didn’t look afraid. He was still thin and haggard with dark circles around his eyes, but he stood tall before her, head bowed and breathing deeply as he waited patiently for the words that could mean his death... or worse.

Finally, Aurelia took a breath to speak.

“...I wish for clarification about the charge of... bodily possession of an entity of the Fade. Does that mean... what I think it means?”

Anders’ head jerked up, his expression briefly one of confusion before becoming a mask of placidity once more as he calmly answered her question.

“It does.”

Murmurs erupted from the crowd, but Bull chose to ignore them in favor of listening to Anders, as the man hadn’t yet finished speaking. 

“I am, by the technical definition as is written in Chantry law, possessed, and therefore am an abomination.”

The murmurs grew even louder, though they suddenly quieted when Aurelia looked up at them sharply and barked, “Quiet!” before fixing her stare on Anders again. “You are unlike any abomination I’ve ever seen. Is this what you mean by... _the technical definition as written in Chantry law_?” 

Anders nodded. “While I understand that the Dalish don’t recognize the creatures of the Fade as having any distinctions, Chantry scholars generally assign them two specific categories: demons... and spirits. Demons are said to embody our earthly vices, and spirits embody our virtues.”

“I see. While it is true that we do not give the denizens of the Fade any particular distinctions, we recognize that some are... less helpful than others. So, you are possessed by a... virtuous spirit?”

Anders nodded again. 

“Once, he was a Spirit of Justice, though... I fear that when we joined, my mortal nature twisted him into something... other.”

“Precisely how did you... join with this spirit?”

“Ah. That would be the reason for my charge of desertion.”

And so he launched into the tale of his conscription into the Wardens, a brief description of a wild tale about a cursed village and a blood mage Baroness who became a Pride Demon that sundered the Veil and brought a Spirit of Justice into the corpse of an Orlesian Grey Warden by the name of Kristoff. He glossed a bit over a story of the few others who were conscripted with him, yet another crazy tale about a murderous Darkspawn Broodmother that talked, until he finally finished with a few statements about the departure of the Hero of Ferelden from Vigil’s Keep, the new management and the Templar recruits, until finally coming back around to his joining with the spirit in a last ditch attempt to save it from the unknowable territory of the corpse’s inevitable decomposition.

“Unfortunately, the Wardens who were with me at the time, including the former Templar – Rolan – decided to attack us both during the process, and...”

His face briefly twisted into a mixture of terror, disgust, and regret, before he bowed his head and continued with, “...and when I came to myself afterwards, they were dead. No, worse than dead. Eviscerated. It was the sort of death and destruction you would expect of an abomination. And so I ran. Because back then, that was what I was good at. I’d run from the Circle time and time again, and eventually it brought me to the Wardens. But I wasn’t safe in Wardens anymore and I didn’t want to go back to the Circle, so... I ran.”

For once, the entire hall was completely silent.

“And... you ran to Kirkwall,” was all Aurelia said to him in reply. He nodded.

“Yes. Because a friend of mine had been transferred to the Circle there several years prior, and it was the only place I could think of to go.”

“So you didn’t go to Kirkwall with the intention of destroying the Chantry.”

“No. I’m not completely certain I even went for the purpose of becoming an advocate of the freedom of mages. After all, I was very recently possessed, I’d just run from the Wardens like I’d run from the Circle; not to mention that Kirkwall has one of the largest collections of Templars anywhere in Thedas. So, no. In the beginning, I only wanted to rescue a friend... who I ended up finding had been made Tranquil, in spite of the fact that he’d been a Harrowed mage who, by Chantry law, should have been safe from such a fate.”

“And it was only after that when you began to write your manifesto and became more involved in the Mage Underground?”

“Yes. However...”

And so once again he relayed a tale of travels with the then future Champion of Kirkwall, hundreds of nights spent healing the sick and injured of Darktown without pay or care for his well-being, trying to spread awareness of the atrocities of the Gallows while trying to remain out of the Gallows himself. He talked about the years spent writing to the Grand Cleric, to the Knight Commander, even the Divine herself! He tried saving mages in small groups, then by twos, and finally one by one from the Gallows, but nothing was working and more and more Harrowed mages were becoming Tranquil with each passing year until Meredith’s rule.

“Sometimes...” he finally sighed, “sometimes I wonder if it never would have escalated the way it did if we hadn’t gone into the Deep Roads so Bartrand would betray us for that damn idol, which he sold to Meredith, who it would eventually corrupt and kill in the process of dragging her mind through a dark pit of madness and despair. Sometimes I wonder if perhaps locating and cleansing every damn Tevinter ruin we came across would have made any difference, because the Veil was always so blasted thin in that accursed city, it was no small wonder so few apprentices ever made it _to_ their Harrowings, much less through them. But after almost ten years of effort with nothing to show for it... I couldn’t see any other way to make things change without sacrificing my own life to give them just the tiniest chance at freedom.”

At this he seemed to deflate, and he sighed deeply, shoulders drooping, head bowed, eyes on the floor.

“I didn’t expect that Hawke would let us live after... afterwards. I’d fully expected a knife in the back, and maybe then I could do something right for once and return Justice to the Fade. But... no. He let us live. I still don’t know why. And I still don’t believe I deserve to. I should be dead, Inquisitor.”

He looked up, tears streaming down his face, shoulders shaking, and he sobbed once before he shouted at the top of his lungs, “ _I SHOULD BE DEAD!_ ”

And then quiet reigned in the hall once more, the only sound being that of his soft sobs which echoed across the court. Bull glanced up at Aurelia, who was sitting so very still, almost completely upright, eyes wide, with one hand covering her mouth as if to keep her own emotions from spilling out. He couldn’t be sure, but he thought he could see the glint of tears in her eyes.

Eventually, though, she slowly let her hand rest in her lap and straightened, letting out a deep sigh.

“Anders,” she said at last, and when she said his name, he looked up to meet her eyes. “I... know at least that I cannot, in good conscience, make you Tranquil.” The poor man’s shoulders relaxed a bit, though his back tensed ever so slightly. “And yet, after listening to your words... I find that neither can I sentence you to death.”

Immediately the crowd erupted into loud whispered conversations of protest and incredulity, though one sharp look from the Inquisitor silenced them immediately once again.

Before her, Anders was visibly trembling.

“But... but why? I should be dead... shouldn’t I?”

Aurelia simply looked at him with the calmest, most serene expression he’d ever seen her give anyone, even her lover, Commander Cullen.

“Certainly some might say so. Yes, there are many who paint you as a heretic revolutionary who deserves death as payment for the deaths that followed in the years after the destruction of the Kirkwall Chantry, and many more still wish for your death simply because of what you are. What we are.”

She offered her palm to the crowd, a lit a spark of blue fire in her palm for a moment, before snapping it closed and extinguishing the flame.

“But I do not believe in executing my own kind for misguided beliefs. And as for the Magister, Erimond,” –this she addressed to the crowd– “that _snake_ was trying to help raise an army of demons and mind-controlled Wardens! Death would have been too good for that one. But you,” she quieted, looking upon Anders once more, “you just wanted to stop people from hurting. Because you aren’t the mindless killer that some say you are. 

“You, at your core, are a healer, and you are best when you are allowed to be as such. And as for those lives that may or may not be laid at your feet? Just as I do not believe in executing my own for their beliefs or their very existence, I do not believe that the death of the one responsible is the just due payment for the loss of those lives. Instead, you will be put to work, under the supervision of and in service to the Inquisition as a Healer and a Researcher, and every life you save shall be your payment for every life that was lost. _That_ is my judgement on this matter and my judgement now is _final_. You shall be returned to your cell until a rotation of guards and duties are assigned to you. Cullen, if you please.”

Cullen came around and, as he had done the night before, gently grasped the mage’s shoulders and escorted him from the room, which was still completely silent. Aurelia turned to Josephine. 

“Are there any others this morning?”

Josephine shook her head slightly. “No other prisoners are yet ready for judging, Inquisitor.”

Aurelia gave a sharp nod of assent, and then stood to address the crowd.

“Then the judgements for today are now concluded. _Dareth shiral_.”

And with that, she turned on her heel and went straight for her quarters, catching Bull’s gaze as she went. He waited for the court to finish its initial fluttering over the Inquisitor’s departure and the majority of onlookers had finally dispersed back out into Skyhold’s courtyards, and then and only then did he slip through the door that led to the Inquisitor’s quarters, trod up the spiraling staircase, until finally coming up the last flight of stairs to find her leaning against the beam of one of the open windows, staring out across the horizon.

“Hey Boss,” Bull grumbled.

Aurelia grunted, turning to look at him. Her blue eyes were almost fever bright from tears, but she held herself with confidence when she inclined her head to him in greeting.

“The Iron Bull.”

She smiled, and Bull couldn’t help but smile back. Like Cole, Aurelia always greeted him with the full name before falling back on more familiar terms. 

“That was sure something back there, wasn’t it?” He asked her, joining her in leaning against the post opposite hers. “See, I told him that you wouldn’t make ‘im dead or Tranquil. Of course, I didn’t know who he was...”

“Would you still have told him that if you had?”

Her question was quick, and when he met her eyes, she held his gaze with all of the steely patience of one of his former Tamassrans. It almost made him uncomfortable to be fixed with a stare like that. But, instead of shifting under the weight of it, he simply shrugged.

“Probably. Execution’s _really_ not your style. You like to use everything at your disposal. No waste.”

“Well, when you’re part of a traveling band of elves who have to sell pelts and weapons at fractions of the prices they're worth to shemlen who don’t appreciate their quality in order to purchase hard to acquire items from other vendors who charge exorbitant prices simply because you’re an elf and you’re Dalish... you learn to use everything available.”

“It’s not a bad practice. Makes you a good leader.”

“Does it?” She sighed, running a hand through her white-blond hair. “Some days I wonder. Today is one of those days. See, when Cullen came back to bed last night after Cole came to our door telling us about... him... I knew today was going to be...”

“Shit.”

“Yeah. But I’m curious about something, Bull.”

“Sure, what is it, Boss?”

“Why did Cullen find you drinking with him of all people?”

Bull shrugged. “Cole. Told me he needed some lookin’ after. So I bought ‘im a few drinks. After all, the man thought he was going to die.”

“Cole. Of course. Did you know he was possessed?”

Another grunt. “Cole sort of let it slip. I told him that if any crazy Fade-shit happened because I went over there, I’d be telling you.” That earned him a chuckle from Aurelia who turned to him, pressing her back against the beam.

“So you went and talked to him... and bought him a few drinks... even knowing he was a possessed mage?”

Bull just gave her a look that he hoped was something close to unimpressed. Whatever it looked like, it only served to make her smile a little more.

“Hmm. I see. Well, if you we’re able to tolerate him for a couple drinks, do you...” She trailed off, her expression suddenly becoming serious. “Do you think you could stand being put on his guard rotation for a little while? Just until I can get some people I know’ll not try to kill him as soon as his back is turned?”

“Sure, Boss.” 

Actually, that was kind of what he’d been hoping to get around to asking.

“Just make sure any of those others know to watch for... when his eyes linger on small, sharp things like those little knives the healers use, or the nib of a quill pen.” She frowned at him for a moment, but suddenly his meaning dawned on her. She nodded sharply. 

“Yes, of course. And people with sharp eyes and a willingness to take an arrow or two might not be such a bad thing, either. Even with such top notch protection,” –here she winked at him– “there’s bound to still be plenty of idiots looking to have a go at offing the man.”

Bull nodded. “So it’s settled then. You know where I’ll be; just let me know where I need to be, and when I need to be there.”

“Will do, Bull.”

* * *

 

And so the fourth time Bull saw Anders, it was when he was relieving Vivienne of all people in the mage’s guard rotation.

“The Boss rope you into this somehow?” Bull asked her while the two of them stood just out of earshot but within sight of the healer. From where Bull stood, he looked calm. Almost happy, even. But of course, Bull knew better than to trust appearances.

Vivienne huffed daintily. 

“I volunteered. Mostly I desired to speak with the man myself about all the trouble he’s caused. I wished to see if his remorse for the situation was as genuine as it seemed during his judgement.”

“And?” Bull grumbled. “Does he pass your inspection?”

Vivienne sighed, and for a moment Bull could almost see her mask of indifference crack and become something soft and sorrowful.

“I came prepared to hate this man, and yet I find that I cannot. His remorse is most certainly genuine... I doubt that one could bluff his way out of a paper bag even if he tried. And, that spirit...”

She wrinkled her nose a little. “Well, the Wardens have always historically been a little... more liberal in their uses of magic.” She gave Bull as sharp, assessing look and her eyebrows knit close together as she did so. “Look after him. And do see if you can get him to smile? It’s rather depressing to watch him when he’s not otherwise engaged.”

“Yes, ma’am.”

Afterwards Vivienne turned on her heel and left for her salon, leaving the guarding of the mage in Bull’s capable hands. Slowly, he trudged over, ducking down into the tent so his horns wouldn’t catch the edge of the fabric. The mage noticed his approach, and paused in his mixing of some sort of medicinal paste to gesture to a nearby crate.

“Afternoon, The Iron Bull. Here’s a crate if you’d like to sit.” His mouth quirked upwards in a tiny smile. “That is, if you’re not to proud to sit on a crate. The Lady Madame de Fer unfortunately declined my offer earlier, and I was rather put out about it.” 

Bull snorted, and settled down as gently as possible on top of the thing.

“Nah. It’s fine. So how’s your new lease on life, Blondie?” Bull inclined his head, and added in a more somber tone, “Anders.”

Anders paused briefly in his preparations, but simply shrugged and pressed on.

“Well, I could be dead, so still being alive is in and of itself a... surprise.” 

“I told you that Lavellan wasn’t big on wasting talent she thought she could use, didn’t I?”

“You never said she was a mage,” Anders replied giving him a side-eyed look. “But, regardless, I’m happy to be healing again. It’s certainly a welcome change from... other things.” His smile faltered a little, but he tried to pick it up again. Bull hummed appreciatively.

“Well, that’s good. Only thing you might want to work on is that smile of yours, Healer. You look better with it on. Prettier, in that rugged sort of way. I’m sure it helps scare away fewer patients than that mopey frown does.”

Anders flushed, and blinked at him owlishly before offering a shy smile. 

“Ah, I’m... flattered you think I’m pretty. I once fancied myself quite the looker in my younger days when all I needed to get a job at the Pearl in Denerim was a nice smile and my magic hands.” He held up one of his hands and waggled the fingers for emphasis. 

“You worked at a brothel?” Bull was aware that he sounded a little too incredulous. He hoped it gave off more of an impressed impression instead. So he gave the healer an assessing look, nodding slightly in approval. “Yeah, I could see that. You’ve got that plush lips, slim hips thing going on that just about everyone goes crazy over. And with an ass like that, hey, I’d bed you.” He winked, and he laughed when Anders stared at him, mouth gaping like a fish.

“Really, me?” He gibbered. “Huh. It’s... well, it’s been a long time since anyone’s told me that. Actually, no. Some of the patrons at the Blooming Rose like to leer at me on occasion, but I never worked there as a servicer.” Again, he held up his hand and waggled his fingers intently. “Just as a healer. Brothels are one of the most likely places to catch and/or spread sexually transmitted diseases, so it’s never a bad idea to have a healer on hand. Still, um. It’s been awhile for the whole sex thing too. For me, that is. Maker, I don’t think I’ve had sex since I left Vigil’s Keep. Damn. That was well over ten years ago...”

Bull grunted again. 

“Damn. Such a shame. Well you know, if you’re ever looking to get back on the wagon, I’m always available. And I’m always good for it. You should maybe take me up on that offer sometime.”

This time, Anders’ hand didn’t flutter as much. He simply paused again in his preparations, blinked at Bull owlishly as that full-body blush crept up from below his shirt collar, and then resumed his work. 

“Maybe I shall. You look like the sort who knows how to care for a person like me. And you’re plenty easy on the eyes.”

He offered Bull another shy smile and it looked like he was about to say more, but the moment was broken when Bull glanced in the direction of the tent flap where a bit of movement had caught his eye. 

“Hmm. Looks like you’ve a patient, Healer.”

Anders nodded, and turned to go about his business. So Bull simply leaned back and watched, taking great care not to let the pretty healer’s more... distracting assets keep him from focusing on his work.

He still thoroughly enjoyed them, however. Immensely so.

* * *

 

And while Bull saw the Healer in passing and on the times he was due for guard rotation, it wasn’t until one evening where Bull was back in the tavern, sitting in his usual chair and watching the Chargers play yet another round of Diamondback (this time after a few rounds of some of Cabot’s stiffest drinks yet – some kind of ale and whiskey cocktail Bull figured, after tasting it once) that he really saw Anders again.

This time he was accompanied by Varric, and the two looked to be deep in conversation... until Anders looked up and met Bull’s gaze from across the room. Bull winked at him cheekily, which appeared to cause the Healer to blush furiously, and then the dwarf was suddenly laughing and clapping him on the back, urging him in their direction.

Anders waved the dwarf away and, glancing around as though expecting to be shot if he crossed the tavern unattended, briskly walked over to where Bull sat and curled up in the armchair nearest his own.

“Hey Blondie,” Bull greeted him, and the nickname immediately brought a cheeky grin to Anders’ face. “The Iron Bull,” he replied, suddenly equal parts confident and shy. “Fancy meeting you here.”

Bull snorted. “Surely, you have better lines than that.”

Anders laughed.

“I used to, I promise. But I told you before that it’s been a very, very long time, for me. In the Circle, seduction was like a weapon, or a line of defense. If you were pretty enough and could lift your skirts fast enough, could bring them off quick enough, the nicer Templars would keep you away from the more malicious ones...” His voice was light and teasing, but Bull could see his hands flicker with bits of bluish-white lightning across his skin.

“Still, it wasn’t all bad,” Anders acquiesced, “those robes were good for getting up to all sorts of nonsense, and since my magic didn’t manifest until I was twelve, I was... you know, about that age when I arrived at Kinloch. So, I assure you, I got up to plenty of nonsense.”

The blond leaned over and leered at Bull with a lewd grin.

“Perhaps if you get a couple of drinks in me, I might remember some of my charm?” 

Bull chuckled. “Just a few,” he said with a grin, “and only ale this time if we’re going to be doing anything fun later.” Anders chuffed. “Warden, remember? Those, ah... stories about our stamina in bed are more true than you think, you know.” Bull laughed, but shook his head.

“I meant consent, Blondie.”

Anders quieted, suddenly sober. “Ah, yes. Right. Alcohol does tend to impair that quite a bit. Thank you for considering that.”

Bull raised his drink when the ale arrived and Anders grasped his own cup.

“No problem, it’s what I’m here for.”

So they toasted to better lives and new beginnings, and it didn’t take very long for Anders to start getting handsy under the influence of the liquid courage, which was Bull’s cue to take the man upstairs.

Their first real kiss occurred shortly after Bull closed to the door leading to the main part of the tavern, a searing hot, all-consuming endeavor. Damn. The man might not be as well-practiced with his pick-up lines, but his kisses were nothing the shake a stick at! It took a great portion of Bull’s self-control not to undo the fastenings of the man’s trousers (or even rut against him right on top of the tavern door) to pleasure him right there, but he managed it enough to drag them to the room he’d claimed as his since the tavern had established itself here. He panted, pushing gently against Anders to get him to stop, which the man did, waiting patiently, and eagerly, for his next move.

“Need a minute Blondie,” he growled softly. “We gotta do the responsible thing and discuss watchwords and such.”

Anders, who was more alert and lucid than he thought he was, nodded sharply.

“Yes... my watchword. It... it used to be “Templar”, but I think... I think “Tranquil” might be a better one.” 

Bull nodded. “That’ll do. Anything you think I shouldn’t do?”

“No whips,” Anders recited immediately. “Ropes and blindfolds are... fine. But only if the ropes aren’t made of actual rope and the blindfolds are made of sheer fabrics. I think I can take being held down... but not beaten in any way.” He frowned, as though trying to think of anything else.

“I... suppose that’s everything. Oh, no, wait. I used to be rather into power play, but... not so much, anymore. There might be others, but... that’s what watchwords are for.” Anders nodded. “Yes, I think that’s it.” 

Bull met his eyes, which were an unusually brilliantly bright amber color.

“And... your... spirit?”

“I’ve made strides in my communication,” was all Anders said on the matter. “Justice understands the purpose of such exercises, and is confident that even if it becomes too much for me... the watchword should be enough.”

Bull nodded, reclining on his bed and getting comfortable. 

“Right, then. Strip for me, and make a show of it, yeah?”

Anders grinned. 

“I’ve no complaints to that.”

Anders pressed his knees against the edge of the mattress and began to swivel his hips as he removed his leather jerkin button by button ever so slowly, his other hand reaching up into his hair and undoing the ties that held his short braid together, letting it spill over his shoulders in a cascade of molten gold. The leather jerkin was followed by the long-sleeved cotton shirt beneath it, and Anders tossed it behind him where it landed on the floor with a soft thump next to the jerkin. The, slowly, his long, nimble fingers ran down his sides until they came to the belt around his waist, the swiveling of his hips becoming slower and more pronounced.

“Wait,” Bull growled, his voice thick with arousal.

Anders did as he had been commanded. “You told me to strip, yes?” asked the blond, cocking his head to the side. Bull simply grinned and leaned forward, grasping a hand and jerking him forward. 

Immediately Anders tensed up, though he did his best to relax as Bull pressed the blond flush against his chest. Bull searched his face, noticing that while the teasing smile still lingered on his lips, Anders’ eyes were bright with a twinge of fear. Bull rolled Anders onto his right side, reaching up and caressing his face as gently as he could.

“I’m not going to hurt you,” he told the other man seriously, “not unless you wish it. You’re safe here... so relax. Got it?”

The blond’s expression grew serious, then soft and tender as he nodded.

“I need you to say it,” Bull prodded, still watching Anders intently. By now, Anders had fully relaxed in his arms, and his eyes were no longer fearful. He nodded again, this time adding an, “I understand,” in answer. 

Fully satisfied, Bull gently maneuvered Anders until he was flat on his back, slightly propped up from the numerous fluffy pillows Bull had accumulated. He tilted his head back, rubbing his face against the silks and humming contentedly. “Ohhh, I could get used to this,” he purred. Bull chuckled.

“Mmm. Well, you’ve certainly got a chance to now, Blondie,” he said, undoing the blond’s belt and trouser ties all in one go, pulling them down with ease.

“No smalls?” he asked, grinning up at the mage, who shrugged.

“I may or may not have went without in the hopes of getting Varric to get us to come here tonight,” Anders replied cheekily. 

Bull simply hummed and leaned back on his haunches to survey the healer as he wished. Now, completely unclothed and sprawled before him like one of the cats that he’d learned the man was so besotted with, he could drink the man in.

Unlike most mages, Anders was well muscled, if a little on the thin side. For a human he was rather tall though, and thus was almost of a height as Bull himself was, sans the horns. His front was mostly unscarred save for some rather nasty bites and scratches that Bull knew only came from Darkspawn and dragons, along with a nasty burn that dripped down from a slightly sunken part above his heart. Anders noticed him staring and seemed a little uncomfortable with it, so Bull leaned down a drew his left nipple into his mouth, worrying at it with his teeth. This elicited a harsh hiss that turned into a gasp as Bull moved from that nipple to the rippling skin of the burn scarring, kissing it.

He leaned back, and briefly met Anders’ gaze.

“Hey. Scars are nothing to be ashamed of, yeah?” He tapped his eyepatch. “Just trust me on that one. I like to think of them more as... reminders that I’m still alive, right? Because each and every one of those scars could’ve been a death.” He tapped the one above Anders’ heart. “You should be given a medal for that one.”

Anders laughed softly, lips turned upwards in a slight grin.

“Hmm. That’s one way of looking at it.”

Bull chuckled. “Or... you could think of each scar as another chance you got to be able to do this...” And he leaned back, sliding down Anders’ body with ease. Anders looked down and frowned at him with confused look on his face.

“Another chance to do wha–oh! Oh...” 

He moaned as Bull’s lips descended over his cock, which grew from half-hard to full mast in mere moments, and he writhed on the bed wildly as Bull wrung an orgasm from him in an almost embarrassingly short time. He lay there, appearing a little stunned and recovering a little even as Bull pulled away with a swallow and a swipe of his hand against his mouth.

“I, ah,” Anders panted, staring at Bull with that lovely full-body flush spreading from his chest and up into his face, “see what you mean now. So, you think you can get me to do that... at least two... maybe three more times?”

Bull arched an eyebrow at him.

“Grey Warden Stamina, remember? I mean, give me a couple weeks of good food and decent amounts of sleep and I might even be able to go on longer... I think Nat and I managed like... six or seven times one night when we got drunk off of some Aqua Magus I’d nicked from Oghren’s stash...”

Bull chuckled.

“Well, we’ll see,” he laughed as he removed his harness and pants, dropping them on the floor to join Anders’ clothes. When the man caught sight of his own cock, his eyes went almost as wide as dinner plates, and he licked his lips in what appeared to be anticipation. 

“Damn,” Anders whistled. “I’d love to give you the most amazing head of your life, but... I doubt I could get my mouth around you.” 

“Hmm. Maybe some other time. Tonight’s all about you though, Blondie, not me. Spread those lovely legs a bit for me, won’t you?” 

Anders did as he was asked, moaning a little.

“Ohhh... just so you know, I might have a bit of a size kink. Used to fantasize what it would be like with one of the Qunari I’d see around Kirkwall... Never really, uh, had the opportunity to find out. Aside from the whole “I’d probably have my mouth sewn shut if I ever asked” bit, that is.”

“Lucky for you, you’re about to. But let’s get you nice and loose first, yes?”

Bull reached for his jar of salve which had a bit of healing potion mixed in with the slick. He propped up the healer’s back with whichever pillow was in reach, dipped a finger in, and slowly pressed it against the mage’s entrance.

As he’d done when being sucked off, Anders arched from the bed a bit and moaned loudly, hands grasping the sheets as his cock quickly began hardening again, precome dripping from the tip onto his stomach where it rested. Bull grinned as he twirled the finger around a bit before withdrawing and hearing Anders’ resulting whimper of protest.

“Patience, Blondie,” he soothed. “We’ll get there.”

And he coated three fingers with the salve, only putting two in at first, and waiting until Anders grunted with impatience for him to start scissoring. Eventually he pressed the third finger in, and began searching for the mage’s prostate. “You think you could come just from this, Blondie?” He asked, and Anders only response was an incoherent whimper, followed by a sharp moan as Bull crooked his fingers at just the right spot. 

“I... maybe? I need... just a bit more...”

He reached for his cock, but Bull had him covered there. And with nowhere to reach out to, Anders could do little but grasp at the pillows above him and the sheets around him, finally coming with a keening wail as Bull crooked his fingers again while pumping Anders’ cock which was still slick from Bull’s saliva and his own cum. Now his chest lay glistening with it, which Bull took the time to clean up after withdrawing his fingers.

“Think you got one more in you, or are you done?”

Anders laughed breathily. “Oh, I most definitely have at least one more in me. I want you inside me Bull... your fingers were amazing, but that massive cock of yours just has to be even better.”

Bull flashed him a predatory grin which had the mage shuddering, his cock twitching yet again with arousal. 

“Alright then, Blondie. Let’s indulge that little kink of yours, shall we?”

Bull scooped up a healthy dollop of the salve and slicked up his own cock, which up until now he had completely ignored in favor of pleasuring the mage. Anders watched, hands clenching and unclenching the sheets with anticipation, and then Bull was over him, around him, running his hands down Anders’ sides with their lips locked in an all-consuming kiss as Anders arched up and Bull slid inside him with a low moan.

Anders broke from the kiss to groan, and Bull paused to watch Anders’ face for any sign of pain. “You good?” he prompted, and Anders nodded. 

“Yeah,” Anders bit out. “Just need a moment.” 

Bull nodded and waited until Anders gave him the signal to keep going, and slowly, inch by inch, Bull sunk into Anders until they were flush together. Anders threw his head back against the pillows and muttered a string of pleased, if incoherent words in between a few moans.

“Ohhh.... it feels so good. Wow. So, so... full... never – _unnnngh_ – never been this full. Maker, you’ve ruined me for other men, ohh...”

Bull chuckled. “Maybe I’ve ruined you for all men... but I might be able to recommend a few women who like to utilize some interesting toys...” Anders laughed, and the motion made Bull groan and jerk his hips a little, which made Anders react in turn. 

“Ah... maybe less talking and more moving now?”

“Right.”

So that was exactly what Bull did, all the while peppering the man with gentle touches and biting kisses, leaving a series of rather long, intense ones in a string around his neck where the collars of the man’s shirts wouldn’t reach. Steadily Anders grew louder and more incoherent as his thrusts grew longer and deeper and Anders met them with all of the gusto of an experienced lover.

It wasn’t quite enough, though, so Bull leaned down and whispered in to Anders’ ear, “You don’t have to move just yet, you know. I’m still dying to try out some of these silk scarves I pilfered off of Dorian... they’d be just perfect for tying you up and leaving you splayed before my like a feast...”

Anders groaned, moaning into his neck.

“Like that do you, Blondie? You like being talked dirty to?” 

Bull lowered his voice yet another octave. “How about this? How about I tell you about all the ways I’d like to see you come for me? And you’d enjoy each and every moment of it, just pleasure,” –thrust– “upon pleasure,” –thrust– “upon pleasure? I bet I could wring one out of you with your hands and feet tied to the posts, your eyes bound by the most sheerest of silk, with nothing but my hands and lips, teasing your nipples and only, very, very occasionally...”

He reached down, grasping Anders’ weeping cock and finished with a low grumble, “...giving you a little _squeeze_.” 

And... thrust.

Anders fell apart in his hands, arching up again with that same keening wail from before, but louder, his cum spilling all over Bull’s hand and his stomach. His insides clenched like a vice around Bull, who groaned and followed Anders with his own orgasm shortly afterwards. He waited until he was just a few moments short of completely soft before pulling out, and he –again– took the time to clean them up before watching his sated handiwork blink at him blearily from the bed.

“Maker... I hope I don’t have to move after that... just wanna sleep here for like a week, you know?” Anders murmured with a yawn. Bull chuckled, a low rumble in his chest as he settled down on the mage’s left side and pulled him against his chest. “Nah. You stay here and sleep, Blondie. And if anyone wants to come looking for you, they got me to contend with.”

He expected another protest from the man, but all he got was a soft sigh and an upwards glance as Anders met his gaze once more.

“Mmm. Thank you. For everything.”

“What, tonight?”

Anders shook his head slightly. 

“No. I mean, tonight was great, and... well, if you’re up for it, I’d love to do it again. But, no. I meant the night we met, when you told me that if the Inquisitor saw something in me worth keeping around, she’d make sure I stayed that way. That... it really helped to remember that those first few days after I’d been sentenced to serve the Inquisition. It helped to know that someone saw me as useful, helpful. Someone who’s life was worth something. You know?”

Bull hummed in agreement.

“Yeah. Well, you’re welcome, I guess.”

Anders just smiled at him, repeated his thanks in a quieter, sleepier tone, then rolled over and proceeded to fall asleep, draped over Bull like a human blanket.

Bull took another long look at the healer as he too felt the pull of the Fade. The man was a very different person than the one who Cole had drug into Skyhold that night all those weeks ago. He seemed happier, healthier, and more importantly, he had a purpose. Sure, it was a temporary one, healing and researching for the Inquisition, but it was a purpose nonetheless. 

So Bull let himself fall asleep with the healer in his arms, his last thought being of his own healer, Stitches, and how maybe, just maybe, the man might not mind someone helping him keep their little band of Chargers healthy and whole when the day came that Inquisition had served its purpose at last...

**Author's Note:**

> So this was really my first time getting into the heads of Inquisition characters other than Dorian. It's mostly written from Bull's point of view, which is an interesting headspace in terms of like how he sees mages and magic in general. 
> 
> It was also nice, getting to write my Inquisitor in a narrative setting, since I've only written her from a first-person journal POV, as well as touching on fitting other characters like Cole, Cullen, and Vivienne into my writing style, especially Vivienne. I was hesitant to write her and almost used Varric for her part instead, but I really wanted to see how her introspective process would work after hearing his story and the details of his merger with Justice and such. 
> 
> I also think that, if he had worked for the Inquisition, he could've worked with Solas to help him communicate with Justice, even if he couldn't return him to the Fade. But... yeah. This was supposed to be a crack ship prompt that just sort of because something else entirely and I'm sort of fine with that. I hope you enjoyed it.


End file.
